Undercover Assignment
by Rambling Scribe
Summary: Fluffy Valentine's nonsense. Ruth does Harry a favour, which leads to...well, you'll see.  Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.**

**A/N: Fluffy Harry/Ruth Valentine's nonsense, not to be taken seriously. Set early S5. AU.  
**

* * *

Harry shifted about in his seat, trying once again to get comfortable whilst silently willing Malcolm to get to the end of his presentation on the latest system updates.

"In conclusion, the enhancements should make all our lives a little easier and speed up the collation of information from the various agency databases," said the techie, looking around the table at his colleagues. "Anyone have-"

"Thanks, Malcolm," Harry cut in. "That was very informative. Right, we're done."

"Oh."

"Is there a problem, Ruth?" asked Harry, hoping desperately that there wasn't or if there was, it wouldn't require his input.

"It's just that I had a couple of questions."

"Well, you don't need the rest of us for that do you?"

"I suppose not."

Relieved that he could finally get back to his office, Harry quickly stood up and immediately regretted it.

"Harry? Is everything all right?" Ruth enquired as he winced and grabbed the edge of the table.

"Fine," he replied, through gritted teeth. "Touch of cramp, nothing to worry about."

"Oh dear. You need to give it a good rub."

Ruth was somewhat surprised to see the startled look that appeared in Harry's eyes in response to her suggestion. He didn't say anything and she watched him walk slowly and carefully out of the meeting room. Shaking her head in bemusement, she turned her attention back to Malcolm.

**-x-**

Ten minutes later, with her questions answered, Ruth returned to the Grid. Her gaze was automatically drawn to Harry's office; the blinds were shut, which was unusual, especially these days. She deposited her notebook on her desk and stood, hands resting on the back of her chair, as she debated what to do. Harry had clearly been in some pain during the meeting and then he'd tried to play it down. The idea that there might be something wrong with him worried her and that was enough for her to decide she needed to talk to him.

"Harry," she began as she slid the door to his office open, "are you OK? I know something's-"

A flurry of movement and some muttered curses stopped her mid-sentence.

"Er, Ruth, this really isn't a good time," Harry said, trying desperately to manoeuvre his chair closer to his desk.

"Harry?" she enquired, moving nearer to him. "What's wrong?"

"Please Ruth, not now."

She was about to insist he tell her what the problem was when something caught her eye. Something unexpected. She froze, rooted to the spot, her mouth opening and closing several times.

"No, no! Ruth, I'm not…whatever it is you think I'm doing, I'm not," Harry exclaimed, knowing from the look on her face that she was quite probably imagining the worst.

In truth, Ruth didn't know what to think. The only things that were clear to her were that Harry's trousers were down around his knees and she was getting an eyeful of bare thigh. Admittedly, a not unwelcome eyeful of what looked like firm, muscular, bare thigh but it still left the question of why he was in that state in his office…

"I can explain, really I can," Harry gabbled, shifting awkwardly in his seat as he tried to hitch his trousers up.

Deciding that she didn't really want to know what he was doing, Ruth started to back away.

"Please, Ruth; I promise you there is a perfectly innocent explanation," Harry said, attempting to sort out his clothing and stand up at the same time. The sudden movement caused him to wince in pain just as it had in the meeting room and he lost the tenuous hold he had on his still unfastened trousers. They slid down his legs and ended up pooled around his ankles.

Harry was mortified.

Ruth was transfixed.

"Are they…are they _Speedos_?" she asked, after several, very long moments of silence.

It was only then Harry realised his shirt was rucked up around his waist and Ruth was seeing even more of him than he'd initially thought

"Um, yes. They are," he replied, attempting to regain a little dignity by straightening out his shirt.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you wearing them? And more importantly, why were you sitting at your desk with your trousers undone?" Ruth shook her head. "On second thoughts, I don't think I want to know."

"There is a perfectly valid reason."

She looked sceptical.

"But before I tell you, will you at least shut the bloody door!"

Whilst she did as he asked, Harry took the opportunity to pull his trousers up. He was still fumbling with them when Ruth turned back to look at him.

"Go on then," she said, "tell me this perfectly valid reason."

"There's a burst water main just up the road from my house. When I got home last night, the repairs had only just started. The water was off so I couldn't do any washing, which meant I didn't have any clean…underpants for this morning. So it was either the Speedos or…nothing."

Ruth blinked several times as she tried to stop her brain from conjuring up an image of a pant-less Harry.

"The thing is, Ruth," he continued, interpreting her silence as disbelief, "I haven't worn them for a while and they seem to have shrunk. They're a bit…uncomfortable so I was…adjusting them. When you walked in." He added, "I wasn't doing…what it might have appeared I was doing."

A myriad of thoughts and questions had been swirling around Ruth's mind but it was Harry's final comment that compelled her to speak

"Oh God, no! I didn't think you were doing _that_, not in the office. N-not that I'm suggesting you would do it anywhere else. I mean, I know there's nothing wrong with doing…that, it's perfectly natural, after all. What I am saying is…well…I wasn't saying…I don't mean…" She finally stopped, and wished, desperately, that she had a much better braking system on her mouth.

"Right…fine," said Harry, rather vaguely.

"I should probably…" Ruth waved her hand in the general direction of her desk.

"Yes, you probably should. And so should I."

They looked at each other for a few more seconds and then Ruth quietly slid the door open and was gone. Harry sighed and carefully sat back down.

**-x-**

An hour later there was a tentative knock on Harry's office door. It opened a fraction and a voice called out: "Is it OK to come in?"

"Yes, Ruth."

She stepped into his office and closed the door behind her.

Harry smiled at her. "As you can see, Ruth, I'm quite decent."

She gave a small, nervous laugh and he noticed a faint pink blush appear on her face as she began talking.

"I've had an idea. I can nip out at lunchtime and get you some new…underwear. From M and S."

"From where?" questioned Harry, wondering if he'd suddenly developed dyslexic hearing. And then wondering if there was such a thing as dyslexic hearing.

"M and S. Marks and Spencer. On Victoria Street," explained Ruth, slightly incredulous.

"Yes, right, Marks and Spencer. Of course."

"So?"

"Sorry?"

"Would you like me to buy you some new underwear?" Ruth replied, getting the distinct impression that the Speedos were also cutting off the blood supply to Harry's brain.

"It's nice of you to offer but isn't it a bit of an…imposition?"

"No, it's fine, really. I know you've got that lunchtime meeting with the DG and then one with the Home Secretary later this afternoon so you don't really have a lot of time to go running out to the shops, do you?"

Several thoughts vied for attention in Harry's mind. One of which was that she seemed to know his diary better than he did; another was that she'd just made him a rather intimate offer. Perhaps not the quite the sort of intimate offer he hoped she might make one day but, he reasoned, better than nothing.

"Harry?" she prompted.

"Well, I would appreciate it, if you're sure you don't mind. And you'd be helping me out of a tight spot, so to speak."

Ruth smiled at him. "No, I really don't mind. I'm happy to help you out of your tight spot, so to speak."

It was Harry's turn to laugh nervously as he tried to not to think of the sort of help he'd really like Ruth to give him.

Having managed to broach her initial idea with less awkwardness than she'd anticipated, Ruth took a deep breath in preparation for asking the next potentially embarrassing question.

"You'll have to tell me what sort you like, and…um…what size."

For a moment Ruth thought she might have to spell out exactly what she needed to know but luckily Harry understood what she was asking.

After she'd gone, armed with all the relevant information she needed, Harry lent back in his seat and closed his eyes. Whilst he'd harboured the occasional fantasy about discussing underwear with Ruth, it had never been in the context of whether he preferred boxers, briefs or Y-fronts.

A ping from his computer brought him back from his reverie. Email from the DG's office; the agenda for their lunchtime meeting. It was going to be a very long two hours.

**

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More, soon… **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC. Victoria Cardinal Place belongs to its owners and M&S to its shareholders. **

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Chapter 2 of the madness. There's an obscure brand name reference in here that I suspect no one under the age of 30 or outside of the UK will get…**

* * *

It was with some relief that Ruth walked down the steps of Thames House and headed towards Horseferry Road. She was still slightly dazed by the morning's events and her offer to go shopping on Harry's behalf wasn't quite as altruistic as he may have thought. She needed some fresh air and a bit of time away from the Grid; a brisk walk to Victoria Street and a mooch about in Marks and Sparks would provide both. The process of buying some new pants for Harry could well undo any benefit she got from being away from the office but it was a risk she was prepared to take. She had, after all, seen him in his Speedos and survived the experience without fainting or completely losing the plot so getting him new undies should be comparatively painless. Ruth sighed. Who was she kidding? She'd stood in his office, openly gawping at him, and then accused him of…well, she didn't want to think about what she'd nearly accused him of. And now she was on her way to buy him new underwear, which she would have to take back to the office and hand over to him…

Ruth tucked the loose ends of her scarf into her coat. She could do this; she'd said she would and she was damn well going to. Feeling more confident, she increased her pace as she headed towards Victoria Street.

**-x-**

The lunchtime crowds were already beginning to build by the time Ruth arrived at Victoria Cardinal Place. The new shopping centre was a welcome addition to the area, replacing a whole block of tired shops and tatty offices, and it'd quickly become a popular haunt for local office workers. The cafés and shops were always busy, with M and S proving to be a particular favourite. If shopping was the new religion, thought Ruth, then St Michael was most definitely its patron saint.

Pausing to pick up a basket, Ruth casually looked around the store. No familiar faces stood out so she hoped she'd be able to complete her shopping without running into anyone she knew. Just to make doubly sure, she took a circuitous route to the menswear section. Content she wasn't about to have any embarrassing encounters, she made for the underwear display.

There was a variety of styles and colours but Harry had been surprisingly succinct about what he wanted. No boxers, no Y-fronts (much to Ruth's relief) and no briefs, '_especially_,' he'd said, '_those ridiculously small ones_.'

'_Slips, I think they're called_,' Ruth had replied, trying not to picture Harry wearing a pair. She'd only just refrained from commenting that they were similar in style and size to his Speedos and he'd somehow managed to squeeze himself into those. Ruth blushed at the memory. That conversation definitely rated as the oddest, and the most personal, they'd ever had but it could've been a lot worse.

**-x-**

Jo picked up a pale blue shirt from the rail and pretended to give it the once over whilst she watched Ruth. She hadn't set out to spy on her colleague but her intention to go and say hello had been crushed by curiosity when she saw Ruth stop at the men's underwear section. It was looking quite likely that Zaf's book would soon be paying out.

**-x-**

Oblivious to the surveillance, Ruth had finally found what she was looking for, style and size-wise at least. She searched through the packs of trunks, looking at the various colour combinations. Harry had been adamant about that, too; black or navy. Her gaze settled on a pack of white trunks, which was adorned with a photo of a young man modelling the pants. A young man with tanned skin and an impossibly toned stomach, both of which were clearly obtained by spending hours in the gym and on a sun bed. As attractive as the model was, Ruth much preferred the thought of Harry in the trunks. She'd seen enough of him to know that, despite the beginnings of middle-aged spread, he was solidly built and had a rather fine pair of legs.

Decision made, she placed the white trunks in her shopping basket and, as a concession to Harry's preference, added a pack of the navy coloured ones.

**-x-**

Jo's mind was buzzing as she discreetly followed her friend out of the menswear section. There had been no hesitation; Ruth had known exactly what to buy. Clearly her relationship with Harry had progressed much further than any of the team had realised, until now.

**-x-**

Ruth made her way towards the lingerie department, still unaware that she was being watched. She'd decided she might as well make the most of her unexpected lunchtime shopping trip and buy herself something as well. She was a little perturbed to find several men looking through the racks of lacy underwear until it registered with her that the large purple and pink cardboard hearts everywhere weren't just for decoration. The following day, Saturday, was Valentine's Day. Her own heart sank at the realisation; it wasn't the best time of the year if you were single, especially if you were single but secretly in love with your boss.

The thought almost made her give up and head for the tills but then something caught her eye. The bra was black with half-mesh cups, which were decorated with delicate cream embroidery. It was both pretty and sexy and just the sort of thing Ruth liked. An added bonus was that it was available in her size and with matching knickers too.

Ruth put the items in her basket and then found herself wondering if there was some significance in the fact that her new underwear was resting on top of Harry's. She liked to think that there was.

**-x-**

Whilst Ruth went to pay for her purchases, Jo made a swift and discreet exit from the shop and hurried back in the direction of Thames House.

**-x-**

When Harry returned to the Grid after his meeting with the DG, there was no sign of Ruth. In fact, there was no sign of any of his team. Disconsolately, he wandered back into his office. His spirits lifted when he saw a green Marks and Spencer's bag on his desk. They fell again when he looked inside and found a chicken salad sandwich, which was, according to the writing on the outside of the pack, '_made with low fat spread and no mayonnaise!_'. He groaned and then immediately felt guilty when he spotted a post-it note stuck to the wrapping. He picked it up and smiled as he read the familiar handwriting.

_Thought you might like some lunch. Sorry, no BLT left._

_R_

_PS Check your desk. _

Amused, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and saw another M and S bag.

"Thank God for that," he said to himself.

Checking his watch, he decided he had time eat his sandwich and then grab a quick shower before his meeting with the Home Secretary. The lack of water at home and his packed schedule had meant he'd had to forego his morning ablutions. A couple of extra squirts of deodorant and aftershave had just about seen him through the morning but he now felt in need of a wash and brush up.

**-x-**

Ruth was glad to get out of the Registry and back to her desk. Usually, her trips to the second floor were a welcome break from the frenetic pace of the Grid but today the Registry clerks had only one topic of conversation: Valentine's Day. It didn't help that Josie, the Registry Superintendant, was expecting her boyfriend to propose to her and gone from being her usual rational, sensible self to giggling like a teenager passing notes to a boy she fancies. Consequently, it had taken Ruth twice as long to get the files she wanted and she'd had to lie comprehensively about her own plans for the following day.

Dropping the pile of folders on her desk, Ruth looked in the direction of Harry's office. The blinds were now open but he wasn't there. She sat down and typed her password into her computer. Not surprisingly, she had several new emails, one of which was from Harry. She opened his message first.

_R_

_Thanks for the sandwich._

_H_

_PS I checked my desk. _

She smiled and picked up the first folder from the pile and opened it.

**-x-**

Harry stepped out of the shower and started to towel himself dry. He felt refreshed, in both body and mind, and was relieved to have finally got out of the Speedos. They'd been digging in everywhere and he was sure the blood supply to the top of his legs had nearly been cut off during his meeting with the DG.

He wrapped his towel around his waist and picked up the plastic bag Ruth had left in his desk drawer. As he removed the contents, it dawned on him that something wasn't quite right. Harry stared at the garments clasped in his fingers. They were definitely underwear but they were definitely _not_ the underwear he was expecting.

-x-

Ruth retrieved her phone from under a pile of papers and answered it without bothering to check the display.

"Hello."

"It's me," Harry replied. "The bag you left for me," he continued, "not the one with the sandwich, the other one."

"What about it?"

"I think there's been some kind of mix-up."

"Mix-up?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Unless you think something lacy in a B cup is my style, Ruth."

_Shit. Shit!_

"Oh God! I'm sorry, Harry. I must have got the bags muddled."

"Well…yes."

"Hang on." She scrabbled about in the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out the bag she thought contained her new undies. She peered inside; the contents were neither lacy nor feminine; they were unquestionably masculine.

"Ruth? Ruth? Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I am. What do you want to do?"

"I want you to bring me my new pa-…the right bag. Now, please."

"R-right," stuttered Ruth. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the shower room on the fifth floor. Opposite the main lifts."

"OK."

"And Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Please hurry; I'm getting cold."

**

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More soonish…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Still not mine…**

**A/N: Thanks for all your lovely reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying this. This chapter has more Ruth and Harry; more Jo, with added Zaf, and a cameo from Malcolm. Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Ruth stepped cautiously out of the lift and checked the corridor; luckily, there was no one about. She went over to the shower room and knocked on the door. When it opened, she was greeted with the sight of a damp-haired, bare-chested Harry wearing nothing but a pale blue towel. For the second time that day, Ruth stood and stared at him.

One of the lifts pinged, startling both of them. Without warning, Harry grabbed Ruth, pulled her into the shower room and shut and locked the door. She found herself pressed up against one of the tiled walls with Harry just inches away from her. He held his right hand up, indicating she should stay silent. As she had no idea what to say anyway, Ruth happily complied with his request.

Harry moved back to the door and pressed his ear against the wooden surface; whoever had got out of the lift was now standing in the corridor, having a conversation. He didn't want to risk talking to Ruth whilst there was someone only a few feet away who might overhear them; he'd had enough awkwardness for one day.

Whilst Harry was practising his surveillance skills, Ruth was practising her observational skills - on Harry. Her earlier analysis of his physique had proven to be quite accurate; he was still in decent shape, despite the thickening waistline, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to-

"Ruth?"

Harry's voice broke into her fantasy.

"Huh?" she replied, rather inelegantly.

"I said they've gone."

"Who?"

"The people outside."

She blushed, suddenly aware of how distracted she'd been. "Ah, right. Sorry."

"There's something I need to ask you, Ruth," Harry said, slowly advancing towards her. "Something important."

Once again Ruth found herself staring mutely at him as she wondered what was going through his mind.

"Can I have my pants now?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Y-yes, of course." Ruth held out the plastic bag she'd been concealing under her cardigan.

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her. When she didn't make any attempt to move he continued, "You weren't planning on watching me get dressed were you?"

"N-No! Of course not. I was just…"

"You were just what, Ruth?"

She nodded towards the bag. "Just thinking you'd better check they're the right ones."

"And if they're not? What were you going to suggest I do? Wear yours?"

Harry knew he shouldn't be teasing her but it was too tempting when she was so flustered. And at least this sort of teasing wouldn't get him into as much trouble as the other sort he was contemplating.

"You could go commando," Ruth retorted, not quite as flustered as Harry thought. "And I think it's time I went back to the Grid."

She started to move towards the door but stopped when Harry placed his hand on her arm.

"I think you've forgotten something, Ruth." He held up another plastic carrier. "These are yours."

Ruth took the bag from him and peeked inside to check the contents were definitely hers.

"They're er…they're very…nice," Harry said, suddenly feeling rather less confident, "very...sexy."

"T-thanks," replied Ruth, starting to feel quite flustered again.

Nothing more was said and Ruth left Harry to get dressed, on his own.

**-x-**

"What are you doing?"

Jo nearly fell out of her chair. "Jesus, Zaf! Don't creep up on me like that!"

"How would you like me to creep up on you then?" the young man quipped, highly amused by his colleague's reaction.

"Funny. Not."

"You need to spend more time practising your Ninja spy skills, Joanna."

"Still not funny."

Zaf leaned over her shoulder. "Still not answered my question."

"It's not very interesting," Jo replied, attempting to hide what she was doing. "I'm just checking some CCTV footage."

"What footage?" Zaf persisted

She sighed, rather dramatically, and turned to look at him. "Don't you have any work to do?"

"Nothing that can't wait," he retorted, grabbing the mouse from her. "Why are you looking at CCTV of yourself? In Marks and Spencer?"

"It's none of your business, Zaf," Jo said, attempting to regain control of her computer.

"Is that Ruth? It is! What's she doing in menswear?" Zaf fast-forwarded through the images, pausing at the section of the recording that showed Ruth looking at underwear. Men's underwear. "She didn't?"

Jo gave her colleague a smug smile. "She did. And it gets better, look."

**-x-**

When Ruth got back to the Grid, Zaf and Jo were sitting at their desks, diligently typing away.

A few minutes later, Zaf asked: "Ruth, do you know where Harry is?"

"Um, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps he's already left for his meeting with the Home Sec."

"But he would have told you, wouldn't he?"

Alarm bells began to ring in Ruth's head. "What makes you say that?" she enquired, cautiously.

"Well, you always seem to be fully appraised of Harry's whereabouts. In fact, you always seem to be fully appraised-"

Zaf was cut off mid-sentence as a pad of post-it notes hit the side of his head.

"Whoops," said Jo, "I am a butterfingers."

Further discussion was curtailed by the sound of the pods opening. Harry strode on to the Grid and smiled benevolently at his team.

"Everything OK?" he asked.

"Fine, Harry," chorused three voices.

"Just what I like to hear," he said, and headed for his office.

Zaf pulled a face at Jo but she wasn't looking at him; she was busy watching Ruth, whose gaze was focused on Harry's retreating back. At least, Jo _thought_ it was his back…

**-x-**

Jo pulled the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her hands, regretting not putting her coat on. It was freezing on the roof and the slate grey clouds rolling in from across the Thames promised rain.

"You have to pay out now; they're together," she said, jigging about on the spot in an attempt to warm up.

"Not necessarily, Jo. We don't know for certain that Ruth was buying those pants for Harry, and even if she was, it doesn't mean they're definitely together."

"Oh, come on, Zaf! Women only buy underwear for their sons, husbands or boyfriends."

He didn't want to admit it but Zaf knew she had a point.

"Plus," Jo steamrollered on, determined to win the argument, "did you see how relaxed Harry looked when he came back to the Grid? And I don't just mean because he'd taken his tie off."

"Perhaps his meeting with the DG went better than he'd expected it to."

Jo decided it was time to play her trump card. "I've checked the Grid's CCTV. He got back from seeing the DG at 1.45. At 1.58 he left again, carrying a holdall. At 2.16, Ruth returned to the Grid; four minutes later she left after receiving a phone call."

"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Zaf. "I hope you're not keeping those kinds of tabs on me."

"Why? What have you been up to?"

"Nothing. Carry on."

"At 2.36, Ruth came back. Seven minutes later, Harry returned." Jo looked triumphantly at Zaf. "I rest my case. Hand over the money."

"Sorry, it's not enough. You know the rules – no payout without either a photograph or CCTV of the two them _together_." Zaf grinned. "So unless you can prove they were having some sort of rendezvous, the book's still open."

Jo knew a challenge when she heard one. "Right," she said, "I will prove it."

**-x-**

"You wanted to see me," Malcolm said, as he slid shut the door to Harry's office.

"I need a favour, Malcolm," Harry replied, indicating for his colleague to sit down. "And I need absolute discretion."

"Of course, Harry. Absolute discretion guaranteed. What do you want me to do?"

"CCTV for the fifth floor. I need you to do a bit of judicious editing." Harry spotted a nerve twitch in Malcolm's face. "It's not a question of hiding any wrongdoing," he continued, reassuringly, "but stopping certain people from getting the wrong idea about something. Something that was totally innocent."

"Of course, Harry. Which camera feeds and what time?"

**-x-**

All afternoon Ruth had had the distinct impression that something was going on. Zaf and Jo had disappeared without saying where they were going and then Malcolm had closeted himself in the forgery suite saying he wasn't to be disturbed. To cap it all, on his way out to his meeting with the Home Secretary, Harry had stopped at her desk, said '_don't worry, our little secret is safe_' and then winked at her. And she was certain he'd been whistling as he got in the pods.

A noise behind her caught her attention; it was the man himself.

"It's Friday evening, Ruth. Why are you still here?"

If ever there was a leading question, that was it.

"Just finishing a few things off, Harry," she replied.

It was a total lie; she was still there because he was still there and she didn't want to go home and spend another evening with just the cats for company. Then she felt guilty; she loved the moggies, and as nice it was to have them curled up on the sofa with her whilst she watched a DVD, she'd much rather be snuggled up to Harry.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it'll keep," Harry said, well aware that Ruth had spent the last fifteen minutes not doing very much. "I'll give you a lift home."

"There's no need, I'll get the bus."

"It's cold and it's raining. Do you really want to get the bus?"

The answer to that question was quite easy but Ruth still felt unable to be truthful. "Well, it won't be cold or raining _on_ the bus."

"You know what I meant."

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

"If that was an issue," Harry replied, tiring of her prevaricating, "I wouldn't have offered. Now stop wasting time, get your coat on, get your bag and let's go."

Although she'd never admit it, Ruth rather liked Harry when he was being authoritative; she found it quite sexy. And this evening she was finding him particularly sexy.

"OK, Harry," she said, gathering her belongings together. "I'm ready."

"About bloody time," Harry muttered, taking her elbow and guiding her towards the pods.

**

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More soonish… **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Unbelievably, still not mine…**

**A/N Thanks to everyone who is reading, and reviewing. This fic seems to have taken on a life of its own. Valentine's week could well turn into Valentine's fortnight. ;)  
**

**Note: Continues straight on from the last chapter.**

* * *

"Let's take the stairs," said Ruth as Harry pressed the call button for the lift. "The exercise will do us good."

"Are you suggesting I'm out of condition?" he asked, reluctantly trailing after her.

"No, no, not at all. I just think we should use the stairs; it's a good opportunity to get in a little bit of impromptu exercise."

Harry could think of several other sorts of impromptu exercise he'd much rather be doing with Ruth but he decided, wisely, not to voice his thoughts.

Ruth was also thinking of other things she'd rather be doing with Harry, which was why she wanted to avoid using the lift. She'd already been in a confined space with him once today and she didn't want to repeat the experience. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed being trapped in the shower room with him but she didn't think she could cope with being that flustered again. She'd end up saying, or doing, something…revealing.

Harry was relieved to find that he didn't feel out of breath by the time they made it to the basement car park. Maybe he wasn't quite as unfit as he sometimes felt. He retrieved his car keys from his pocket and pressed the unlock button on the fob.

"No driver tonight?" Ruth asked, hovering by the passenger door.

"I gave Mike the night off," Harry replied, opening the boot and depositing the holdall he'd been carrying into it. "It's his wedding anniversary."

"Oh, right. That's nice." Ruth couldn't help feeling that she'd been somewhat duped into accepting a lift. She'd assumed Mike would be doing the driving and his presence would curtail any flirtatious banter.

"So it's just you and me, Ruth," Harry said, walking around to the passenger side of the car and opening the door for her, "which is also nice."

**-x-**

"Are you all right, Ruth? You've gone very quiet," Harry asked as they waited at a set of traffic lights.

"I, er, I was wondering…the holdall; what's in it?"

The lights went green giving Harry an excuse not to reply immediately. The question had been unexpected but he was curious to know why Ruth had asked it.

"Some clean clothes, toothbrush, shaving gear, the towel you saw me in earlier." He paused. "And of course, my nice new pants."

Ruth's brain momentarily stalled and then lurched into overdrive. _Why did he have a change of clothes? _ _What the hell was he expecting? He was just supposed to be giving her a lift…_

"I thought it would save time," Harry continued, wondering if perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned his underwear. "I didn't-"

"Save time?" Ruth cut in, now more convinced than ever he had plans for her.

"Yes. I thought that as it was quite likely the water would still be off at home, I could go straight to a hotel after work. I phoned the water company before I left the Grid and they said it won't be back on until tomorrow afternoon so it looks like my forward planning paid off."

"I see," said Ruth, feeling slightly disappointed by Harry's explanation. Then she had a sudden thought. "What about your dog?"

"I dropped Scarlett off at Adam's this morning. Wes is looking after her, with some help from Jenny. I told you Ruth, forward planning."

"So you've booked a hotel as well then?"

"Um, well…no, I haven't," admitted Harry, feeling slightly foolish.

"It's Valentine's weekend; you'll be hard pushed to find somewhere."

"Since when did Valentine's day get upgraded to a weekend?"

Ruth sighed. "Oh Harry; lots of couples will be making the most of the fact that Valentine's Day falls on a Saturday and will be having romantic weekends away. So if you can find anywhere, you can bet all the prices will have been put up."

Harry couldn't fault Ruth's logic; he was going to end up paying over the odds.

"And do you really want to spend time in a place that's going to be full of lovey dovey couples?" asked Ruth. "I know I wouldn't."

It wasn't Harry's idea of the perfect weekend either but it looked like he wouldn't have much choice. "I'm a grown man, Ruth. I'm sure I'll be all right."

He definitely was a grown man; an attractive, grown man, and the thought of him alone in some anonymous hotel both saddened and worried Ruth. She could imagine him sitting in the bar, which would be all chrome and glass and overinflated prices, nursing a single malt. And then she imagined him being chatted up by some attractive businesswoman who had found herself unexpectedly alone in London for the weekend. An attractive, shapely businesswoman with unfeasibly perky breasts and a very short skirt, who would get to run her hands over Harry's smooth skin and be kissed by those tempting, full lips…

"Stay with me!" Ruth suddenly blurted out, her mind awash with images of Harry naked, being pleasured by a woman who wasn't her.

"What?" Harry asked, as a dull thunk from the front nearside indicated that a traffic cone had just fallen victim to his distracted driving. He swore under his breath, wishing Ruth had waited until after he'd negotiated the roadworks before offering him a bed for the night.

"Don't go to a hotel; stay with me. At my house," Ruth hastily clarified. "I have a spare room; you'd have your own room."

"I don't want to impose," Harry said, wanting to be polite but hoping desperately that Ruth wouldn't change her mind.

"You wouldn't be. Not at all, Harry."

**-x-**

Jo threw the TV remote control on the coffee table. "All those channels and nothing to watch," she grumbled.

"There's footie," Zaf suggested, handing her a large glass of red wine. "Or one of those makeover shows. I think it's someone who won _Big Brother_ redecorating a celebrity's house in sixty minutes." He frowned. "Or it might be the other way round."

Jo shot him a withering look before taking a large sip of her drink. "I rest my case."

Unperturbed, Zaf sat on the sofa beside her and opened a bag of crisps. "You're just miffed because you can't prove Harry and Ruth have been doing the horizontal tango."

"No I'm not," Jo lied. "And since when did you become such an expert on crap TV?"

"I read the TV guide, Joanna," replied Zaf. "And you are _so_ miffed," he added, before shovelling a handful of crisps into his mouth.

Jo elbowed him. "Git."

Zaf tipped the rest of the crisps into his hand and dropped the empty packet on to the coffee table. "You're sure about the CCTV?"

"Positive. There's footage of Harry going into the shower room on the fifth floor and then leaving, thirty minutes later. And there's footage showing Ruth leaving the Grid and getting in the lift."

"But she doesn't go to the fifth floor?"

"No. The next bit of tape shows her going into the Registry, which is odd because she'd already been in there."

"Maybe she forgot something," Zaf said, topping up both their wineglasses.

Jo raised an eyebrow. "This is Ruth we're talking about."

"True."

"There is only one conclusion, Zaf. The CCTV has been doctored."

The two young spooks looked at each other. "Malcolm," they said, simultaneously.

**-x-**

The remainder of the drive to Ruth's house passed in comparative ease. They stopped at the Chinese takeaway to get supper, and the off license for wine. Ruth left Harry to settle into the spare room whilst she raced around the house randomly tidying. She emerged from the utility room clutching an armful of clothes and walked straight into Harry, who was standing in the kitchen looking rather lost.

"Sorry, Harry," she gabbled, trying to hold onto the pile of clothes.

Something fell to the floor and Harry bent down to pick it up. "My fault, Ruth, I shouldn't have been loitering," he said, straightening up.

Ruth didn't hear him – she was too busy gawping at him. He'd changed out of his suit and was now wearing a pair of black jeans and a blue shirt, the sleeves of which he'd rolled up. He looked gorgeous.

"Ruth? You dropped these."

Her gaze finally shifted to his hand; he was holding a pair of knickers. Her knickers. "Oh God," she murmured, trying to ignore the fact that this was the second time today he'd had his hands on her underwear.

Harry delicately placed the panties on the top of the pile of clothes in Ruth's arms and smiled at her. "Why don't I sort out the food while you put that lot away," he offered.

She scurried out of the kitchen without another word leaving Harry to contemplate her choice of underwear as he dished up supper.

**

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More soon…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still not mine…I only own the DVDs.**

**A/N: Sorry for the slight delay. I think this is reaching its natural conclusion so probably just one more chapter after this. And yes, Deskspook, you're right. ;) **

* * *

They had eaten the food and drunk the wine. They had talked and flirted and then flirted a little more. Now they were washing the dishes. To be precise, Harry was washing and Ruth was drying - when she wasn't watching Harry. She liked him being in her house and she liked that they had fallen so easily into domesticity.

"All done," Harry said, placing a dinner plate on the draining board.

"Thanks," Ruth replied, vaguely, her mind still full of images of the two of them happily ensconced in a cottage somewhere in the country.

"I should be thanking you, Ruth. Giving me a bed for the night."

At the mention of the word 'bed', Ruth's brain opted to produce some more vivid images and she turned away from him as she felt the heat rising in her face.

"It's fine, Harry. You can sleep with m-…here any time you like."

An embarrassed silence settled around them during which Harry tried to work out if he was being propositioned. Meanwhile, Ruth was wondering yet again how she got herself into these situations.

"Shall we have some coffee?" Harry suggested, thinking that perhaps they shouldn't have opened, and finished, the second bottle of wine.

"Yes, good idea," Ruth responded, brightly, grateful for the change of subject.

**-x-**

Coffee made, they moved to the living room. Harry settled himself onto the large sofa whilst Ruth chose one of the armchairs, putting a little distance between them.

"Harry," she asked, after they'd spent several minutes quietly sipping their drinks. "What did you mean earlier, when you said our 'little secret was safe'?"

"Oh, nothing really. Don't worry about it."

"But it must have meant something."

"Ruth-"

"Please, Harry."

He sighed. "Well, you know Thames House is full of CCTV."

She nodded.

"Obviously, our little…" he stopped for a moment, trying to think of a suitable word. "Our little meeting on the fifth floor was captured on camera."

Ruth's eyes widened as the implications of what he was saying began to register with her.

"Not that there are cameras in the shower room," Harry explained, hastily, "but obviously I was filmed going in there and you would have been filmed talking to me at the door…"

_And being dragged in_, Ruth thought. _Oh shit!_

"And of course, we would both have been seen leaving," he added, just to compound her misery. "But it's fine; you're not to worry-"

"But Harry," she interrupted, "if someone has seen the recordings, they'll get completely the wrong idea! They'll think we were having s…some sort of…_assignation_."

Frankly, Harry wouldn't have minded if they had been having an assignation but the idea obviously bothered Ruth. "I told you," he soothed, "don't worry, it's all been sorted out; the relevant bits of footage have been erased."

She looked at him. "Malcolm?"

"Yes."

"So Malcolm knows we…"

"He doesn't know all the details. Not that there are any details to know, obviously."

"But surely he wanted to know why you asked him to doctor the CCTV?"

"I told him-"

"What?" Ruth shrieked.

"No! No, I don't mean I told him about your underwear, or mine for that matter," Harry gabbled. "I told him it was all perfectly innocent and editing the recordings was purely to stop misunderstandings."

"And he believed that?"

"Yes."

Ruth wasn't convinced. "I need a drink. A proper drink," she said, marching out of the living room, muttering to herself.

When she returned, she was carrying a bottle of single malt and two glasses. It was, Harry noted as she poured them both generous measures, a rather good single malt.

"Malcolm can be trusted to be discreet, Ruth."

"I hope you're right, Harry" she replied, sitting down beside him.

They were both quiet again for a while, enjoying the warmth of the whisky and the close proximity of each other, although neither was about to admit to the latter.

"I still don't understand how you ran out of pants," Ruth suddenly remarked, out of nowhere.

Harry swallowed his single malt a little too quickly, making himself cough. "I told you," he said, after he'd recovered, "I couldn't get the washing done because the water was off."

"Yes, I know that but how long had it been since you'd done any washing?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Are you suggesting I don't know how to look after myself?"

"No, of course not," Ruth replied, attempting to sooth his injured pride. "It's just that I've got loads of knickers; I'd have to go for an age without doing any washing before I ran out or had to go commando on the Grid. Or," she added, "wore _extremely_ tight swimwear under my work clothes."

With a sudden jolt, Ruth realised she'd left 'too much information' territory and was accelerating rapidly towards 'I want to have your babies' land. She also realised that Harry had gone _very_ quiet, which was probably a bad sign.

Harry's lack of response was due to his brain being stuck at the '_go commando on the Grid_' part of the conversation. Her comment had caused his mind to fill with all manner of inappropriate thoughts - and very naughty images.

Deciding she'd probably ruined everything, Ruth stood up, abruptly, and began to move away from the sofa, and from Harry. She was halfway across the room before he noticed.

"Ruth?"

She felt his hand on her arm and stopped.

"There's no need to run away."

Harry's voice was soft and seductive, compelling Ruth to turn around, despite her embarrassment. She concentrated on the open neck of his shirt, having concluded that this was probably the safest part of his anatomy to focus on. If she looked at his face she'd have to look into his eyes, which she found disconcerting at the best of times. But if her gaze went any lower…well, he would think she was thinking about-

"Extremely tight swimwear, Ruth?"

Her head snapped up. _How did he know?_ "Er, s-sorry, not quite with you," she said, taking a couple of steps back.

Harry moved towards her, his eyes twinkling. "You said 'extremely tight swimwear'. What did you mean by that?"

For a moment or two, Ruth wavered between making a run for the stairs and the safety of her bedroom or answering his question.

"Well," she began, reasoning that she probably couldn't embarrass herself any more than she already had, "those Speedos of yours. You were rather…crammed into them. You could have done yourself permanent damage."

"So you're worried I may have damaged myself in some way?"

Ruth nodded, resigned to the fact she had, after all, managed to increase her humiliation.

"I suppose the only way to know for sure," Harry continued, "would be to do some empirical research."

"What did you have in mind?" Ruth asked, sounding far bolder than she felt.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, casually. "I suppose you could model your new scanties for me and we could see whether that has any discernable effect."

It took Ruth several attempts before she could speak. "W-what?"

"You have seen me with most of my kit off; I thought you might like to return the favour."

She couldn't believe it. He really was being serious.

**-x-**

Harry had topped up his glass of single malt and then sat down on the sofa again. Given Ruth hadn't slapped his face or thrown him out, he reasoned that there was probably a fifty-fifty chance she'd come back downstairs and fulfil his fantasy. Or at least part of his fantasy. He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece; she'd been upstairs for the best part of half an hour. He sipped his drink and revised the odds to sixty-forty against him.

Ruth stood outside the living room, fingers resting on the door handle. She'd been there for ages, trying to summon the courage to go in and give Harry what he wanted; what she wanted. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Harry was reading the _Radio Times_ but he discarded it the moment Ruth walked in. She stopped just inside the room, looking as if she was going to make a run for it at any moment.

"Hey," he greeted her, smiling. "I was beginning to think you'd gone to bed and left me sitting here on my own as punishment for being cheeky."

"I was tempted to," she replied, voice tremulous.

"I'm glad you didn't."

Ruth edged a bit further into the room and stopped again. She hadn't felt brazen enough to walk in dressed only in the skimpy new underwear so she'd put on a white, towelling dressing gown. She was still feeling very exposed though, and her heart was hammering in her chest.

"Very sexy so far," Harry remarked, winking at her.

"Behave yourself," admonished Ruth, her fingers tugging ineffectually at the belt of her robe, which she'd somehow managed to knot.

Harry got up from the sofa and moved towards her. "I always behave myself," he said, "so let me do that." It only took him a few seconds to untangle the material.

"Thanks," Ruth whispered.

He sat down again and watched as she slowly slipped the dressing gown off and let it drop to the floor. She stayed where she was, looking shy, nervous and utterly delectable. Harry shifted forward to the edge of the sofa. "Come here."

She slowly moved towards him, taking his outstretched hands in hers and allowing him to pull her closer.

He looked up at her and smiled. "You're beautiful, Ruth. Absolutely beautiful." He moved his hands to her hips and felt a tremor run through her as his thumbs brushed lightly over her skin. "You didn't expect me to think otherwise did you?"

Ruth tensed as she felt his warm breath against her bare stomach; then she gasped as he placed a gentle kiss on her skin, just below her navel. When he kissed her again, she closed her eyes and rested her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance.

"Do you want me to stop?" asked Harry.

"No," Ruth replied, voice husky with desire. "No I don't."

**

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More soon…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews – I really appreciate them. Here it is, the final chapter. There's some naughtiness and, I hope, a few laughs, plus a brief appearance from Zaf and Jo. Enjoy. (And I hope no one's brain exploded whilst waiting for this update. ;) :P) **

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They were sprawled on the sofa, limbs entwined, kissing each other senseless. Harry's shirt was off, having been removed by Ruth with surprising speed, and her new bra was lying on the floor, the clasp having proven to be no challenge to an unexpectedly dexterous Harry.

"Not yet; I need to do something first," Ruth said, breathlessly, as Harry began to slide her knickers down her legs.

"But I need to get you out of them," he protested, albeit rather weakly. Ruth was moving down his body, leaving a trail of soft, tantalising kisses on his chest and stomach. "Oh Christ!" he groaned, as the tip of her tongue teased under the waistband of his jeans.

Ruth stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. "Something wrong?" she asked, her desire filled eyes and flushed skin belying the innocent tone of her voice.

"You are a _very_ naughty girl who-"

"_You_ said we needed to do some empirical research so that's what I'm doing. And I'm pleased to see we're getting unequivocal results."

In his current state, Harry could barely remember what 'unequivocal' meant, and he certainly didn't care. All he wanted to do was get them both completely naked and somewhere more comfortable than Ruth's sofa. And the sooner the better.

"Despite these good results," Ruth continued, taking Harry's lack of verbal response as a sign she was doing the right thing, "I think we need to do some more thorough, in-depth research."

Harry closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whichever gods had decided to smile on him. Impatient fingers tugging at the zip of his jeans sent a spasm of pleasure through him and refocused his attention on more immediate needs.

"Upstairs," he commanded, taking hold of Ruth's hands.

"We could do it here-"

"Oh, no, Ruth," he said, moving her off him and carefully sitting up. "Believe me; for what I've got in mind, we need a bed."

**-x-**

The first thing Ruth noticed when she woke up was that her bed was much warmer than it usually was; the second was that the broad hand that had been resting on her stomach had begun to move lower.

"Oh God," she moaned, softly.

Harry chuckled. "I didn't know you were so religious, Ruth."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure? I seem to remember you invoking the Lord's name a number of times last night."

"Very…funny."

"Still," said Harry, enjoying being able to tease her in several different ways, all at the same time, "at least you're not a screamer; that could've frightened the neighbours and caused a lot of embarrassment."

Desperate not to give in too readily to her own needs or his obvious desire, Ruth forced herself to concentrate on replying to him. "Perhaps I am a screamer but you need to brush up on your technique."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"Think you're up to it?"

"Oh yes," growled Harry, moving quickly to pin Ruth underneath him, "I'm most definitely up to it."

**-x-**

The second time Ruth woke up, she was on her own. Disappointed at the lack of Harry, and worried he'd decided to go home, she got out of bed and started looking for her dressing gown. She didn't find it but Harry's jeans were folded up on the chair next to the chest of drawers, which suggested he was still somewhere in the house. Despite it being her home and despite their newfound intimacy, Ruth felt uncomfortable with the idea of wandering around naked whilst she looked for Harry. Opening the top drawer of the chest, she located a large t-shirt she occasionally wore to sleep in and put it on.

Ruth eventually found Harry in the kitchen and, much to her delight, he was clad only in a pair of the white trunks she had bought for him the previous day. She stayed in the doorway and watched him as he dished out food for the cats, who were twining themselves around his legs. It had undoubtedly been a good choice of pants; they fitted in all the right places and Harry _definitely_ had all the right places. That point was further emphasised, along with one or two other things, when he bent down to put the two food bowls on the floor.

"I'm beginning to feel a bit like the cabaret, Ruth," remarked Harry as he stood up.

"What? N-no!" spluttered Ruth. "I've only just got here!"

He turned around and looked at her. "Tut tut, Ruth. You've been there at least five minutes by my reckoning."

She blushed, much to his amusement, and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt, as if doing so would miraculously make it stretch and cover more of her thighs. "Well, you shouldn't be disporting yourself quite so freely in my kitchen."

"So where would you like me to disport myself, Ms Evershed?"

"Preferably somewhere my elderly neighbour isn't going to get an unexpected eyeful of you in your knickers."

"I'd much rather be in your knickers," Harry retorted.

Ruth glared at him. "They wouldn't fit."

"Fair point," he conceded. "Anyway," he inclined his head in the direction of the garden, "that fence is at least six foot high. Surely your neighbour can't see over it?"

"She stands on a step ladder. If I'm in here, she uses a broom to tap on the window and get my attention. Frightens the life out of me sometimes."

Harry started to laugh.

"It's not funny!" Ruth exclaimed. "The last time she did it I dropped my dinner on the floor and trod on Fidget's tail. He sulked for two days and I ended up having beans on toast."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, moving over to where Ruth was standing. "Let me make it up to you."

He might have sounded contrite but it was clear his intentions were of the decidedly naughty variety.

"Nice t-shirt," he whispered, placing his hands on Ruth's hips and pulling her against him.

Reflexively, her arms went around his neck and as she busied herself with kissing him, she didn't realise her t-shirt was beginning to ride up. Not until Harry took advantage of the opportunity to squeeze her bottom, very firmly.

Ruth shrieked.

Harry was unrepentant. "You've gone commando – how could I resist?"

"Dreadful man."

"You don't mean it," he replied, his hands starting to wander again. "And you still haven't said thank you."

"What for?" asked Ruth, vaguely.

"Feeding your cats. Poor things were outside the bedroom door, miaowing away whilst you slept the sleep of the very thoroughly-"

"Harry!"

"I was going to say-"

A tapping noise and a shout of "Cooee! Ruth!" interrupted him.

Harry sighed heavily and briefly closed his eyes. "Please tell me that isn't-"

"I'm afraid it is," confirmed Ruth, despondently.

There was another tap on the kitchen window. "Cooee! Ruth, dear. Are you there?"

"You'll have to get rid of her. Tell her I'm busy." As she spoke, Ruth started to back away from Harry. "Go on," she encouraged.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm only wearing pants."

"So?"

"I didn't think you wanted her seeing me in my underwear."

_Shit. Shit!_

"And there is something else," Harry added, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and pride.

"What?"

"Surely you've noticed."

Confusion gave way to understanding as Ruth's gaze moved southwards from his face. "Oh God," she muttered.

**-x-**

Leaving Ruth to deal with her nosey neighbour, Harry went in search of the rest of his clothes and his phone. They were in the living room where he'd left them the night before. Luckily, no one had been trying to call him so he didn't have any awkward explaining to do. There was, however, a text message from Malcolm. He dialled the techie's number.

**-x-**

"Told you it was a bad idea to try and hack into the CCTV back-ups," said Zaf, not entirely sympathetically.

"Really? No, I don't think I remember that," Jo replied, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Apart from the fact that it was blindingly obvious Malcolm would have some sort of warning system in place to alert him the moment someone tried to access them, I can't believe you thought that he wouldn't have edited those as well as the originals."

"Thanks for that."

Zaf was about to say more but then decided it would be wiser not to and instead took a swig of his beer.

"Do you think he'll tell Harry?" Jo asked, unhappily, a few minutes later.

Zaf shrugged. "Possibly. I guess we won't know until Monday."

"Oh Lord," his flatmate groaned. "I'm going to end up posted to the darkest corner of Hell."

"Look on the bright side," replied Zaf, breezily, "Hell's a lot warmer than London this time of year."

A cushion connected with the side of his head. Several times.

**-x-**

Satisfied that the coast was finally clear, Harry sauntered back into the kitchen. "Miss Marple's buggered off then?"

Whatever witty retort Ruth had in mind faded away as she looked at him. He was still wearing his white trunks but he'd now put his shirt on although he'd left it unbuttoned. He looked incredibly sexy but that wasn't the reason Ruth had been left speechless. No, the reason for her lack of vocal ability was that he had her new bra draped around his neck.

"Do you want this?" Harry asked, holding out Ruth's dressing gown, which he'd also retrieved from the living room.

She took it from him and put it on. "Interesting neckwear," she remarked. "I'm not sure you could get away with that at the JIC."

"Could be worth a try," Harry quipped, removing the bra and holding it up. "Have I told you that you've got a lovely set of B cups?"

Ruth grabbed it from him. "I can't believe you checked the size!" she admonished, stuffing the bra into the pocket of her robe and turning away from him.

Harry sidled up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "Don't be angry, Ruth. My intentions were honourable."

"Were they?"

"Of course," Harry whispered, working one hand under Ruth's t-shirt. "I can't go into a shop and walk up to one of the assistants and say 'I want to buy some new lingerie for my girlfriend; do you have any bras in this size?'" He illustrated the final part of the sentence by gently cupping her right breast.

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked, innocently. "I thought you liked that?"

She couldn't really argue, especially when his thumb was slowly brushing backwards and forwards over her nipple…

"I've got an idea," said Harry. "How strong is that table?"

"What?" Ruth questioned, reasoning slowed by the frisson of pleasure running through her.

"I'm feeling a bit guilty; it's Valentine's Day and I haven't even got you a card let alone a present."

"I'm sure you can make it up to me."

"Exactly. Hence my question about the table."

Ruth was wondering how difficult it would be to persuade him that going back to her bedroom was a much better idea. At the moment, she wasn't certain they'd make it up down the hall, let alone up the stairs.

"Sex on the kitchen table," she began, trying to focus on the words rather than the idea, "is all right in theory but the reality tends to be a bit more…"

"Speaking from experience?" said Harry, turning her around to face him. "You do have a naughty streak, don't you, Ruth? I think we should explore that further."

"Yes, but not here," replied Ruth. "And I bet I'm much naughtier than you think I am."

**-x-**

They were back in her bed, exhausted but sublimely happy.

"Are you sure you don't mind that I haven't get you anything for Valentine's Day?" asked Harry, as Ruth's fingers wandered slowly down his bare chest.

"Yes, I'm sure. I didn't get you anything either, did I?"

"Yes you did."

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him.

"This," said Harry, smiling. "I couldn't wish for a better present."

Ruth suddenly felt overwhelmed with love for him. "Silly man," she teased, trying to hide the tears she could feel forming.

Worried that he'd upset her, Harry asked, "Have I said the wrong thing? I didn't mean-"

He was silenced with a long, thorough kiss.

"You said all the right things," Ruth assured him, allowing him to have his lips back, temporarily at least. "And you are, without doubt, the best Valentine's present I've ever had."

Relieved, Harry placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "You can have me for as long as you want. A day, a weekend. It's up to you."

"I was thinking much more long-term than that."

"Oh? How long-term?

"Somewhere along the lines of forever?"

Smiling widely, Harry pulled her into his arms. "Perfect, Ms Evershed. Absolutely perfect."

_The End_

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Thanks for reading. xx**


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